What's Bleeding Through
by Moiray
Summary: Faye/Jake. Influenced by the Crystal Skull, Adam "accidentally" reveals a painful part of Faye's past. Inspired by Melissa's "he almost put you in a psych ward last time" comment in 1x06.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: This chapter is written from Cassie's POV (it felt more fruitful through an outsider's eyes). It changes to Faye's POV in the following chapters.**

**I'll be really happy if you review and let me know what you think about it so far.**

**I don't own The Secret Circle.**

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"Your grandma was one horny witch."

"Shut up, Faye." Melissa's voice is irritated and amused at the same time. You watch her as she reaches for the book in Faye's hand, failing to grab it before the girl lifts it out of her reach.

"Uh, I hate you, " she growls, turning away from Faye and her face brightens up as she spots you at the doorstep of the abandoned house.

"Oh, hey, Cassie."

"Hey," you smile back at her.

"Where's Adam? Thought you were driving here together."

"He's right behind me," you say as you walk towards them. "He just forgot something in the car. So... What's the emergency?"

But it doesn't really look like there is one: the room quite literally breathes freedom, your friends' faces relaxed, untroubled, filled with laughter.

"Melissa found an old print of Kama Sutra and thinks it's her family's Book of Shadows," Faye answers in a theatrical whisper. She and Jake are sitting on the old couch, not quite cuddled up but close in a way that makes it a bit embarrassing to watch. You're actually glad to see them fully dressed for a change: since they've been back on the maybe-we're-dating train, the view from your bedroom's window has been kind of racy.

"What?" you ask, suspiciously eying the book in Faye's hands.

"It _is_ a Book of Shadows," Melissa hurries to explain. "There's just this page that's a little weird and Faye can't stop obsessing about it."

You're still confused. "What page?"

"It says all about directing sexual energy and employing it in advanced healing practices," Jake explains.

"When did _you_ become such a nerd?" Faye complains, playfully faking disgust. "You just completely took the fun out of sexy." She hands the open book to you. "Have a look."

You take it hesitantly and you eyebrows immediately fly up. "Wow." There's a picture of a young woman, beautiful and very much naked, seated cross-legged on the grass; a just-as-much-naked man embraces her from behind, kissing the skin of her arm, both their eyes closed in pleasure. You remember there's some nudity in your book too – mostly in connection to equinox celebrations - but this is definitely new. You cannot help grinning a little. "Interesting."

The front door screeches open and Adam slides in, his eyes flickering around the room restlessly. He hasn't quite been himself lately and now his face seems more tense than ever, irritated with some concealed worry, like he has somewhere other than here to be.

"What's up?" he asks.

Melissa smiles enthusiastically. "I found my family's Book of Shadows."

"You're sure about it?" he asks, his voice impatient, almost rude. "Last time you were saying that it turned out to be a suitcase full of demons."

"Adam," you whisper in shock, at the same time that Jake says: "Hey!" Faye just stares at Adam, her eyes dangerously narrowed.

"I'm pretty sure it's the Book," Melissa whispers, clearly hurt.

Adams sighs, his expression going from sullen to bored. "Sorry," he mutters finally, but it doesn't sound too convincing. Melissa says nothing.

"It's actully pretty amazing," you say quickly, desperate to break the sudden tension in the room. "There's this whole page about... er, sexual..." You trail off helplessly, glancing at Jake. "How did it go?"

He doesn't exactly answer that but his face relaxes a little and so does Faye's, though she's still kind of glaring. Melissa gently takes the book out of your hands and sits back on the couch, studying the page carefully.

"It looks quite complicated," she says, her voice quiet but even. "I mean, you really have to know the other person and there's a whole bunch of herbs you need to take to help focus the energy... but if it's done right it can heal pretty serious stuff...these look like burns and fractures...some really nasty cuts..."

Faye's face is all lit up, her eyes wide with excitement. "We should totally do this."

Jake gives her an amused look. "Right, and you're gonna slice yourself just to give it a try?"

"Really, Faye, what are you thinking?" There's something sickeningly wrong with the sound of Adam's laughter. "Please go back to cutting yourself over the almighty Jake Armstrong – that's clearly the only reason that counts."

It takes you a few heartbeats to realize what it is he just said.

Faye's eyes widen in horror and for a moment she seems to be completely speechless.

"Adam," Melissa says in a warning voice.

"Oh, come on, it's not like we don't know," he goes on, his smile a malicious grimace. He doesn't even look like Adam anymore. He certainly doesn't sound like himself. "Though I guess Jake was too busy hunting witches back then to find out."

Jake, on the other hand, couldn't look _more_ like himself, an inpenetrable frown settling on his face. Absurdly, ridiculously, this makes you laugh. You swallow the giggle, quickly checking for everyone's reactions. No one seems to have noticed. Faye and Melissa both stare at Adam. Jake stares at Faye.

"What the hell is he taking about?"

"Nothing, he's just being an ass," Faye snaps. Her voice sounds casual enough but the words come out too quickly.

"Seriously though," Adams goes on, like he's getting some twisted sort of fun out of this. "Did you use magic or something to make those scars go away? Cause I gotta tell you, I saw such stuff on TV once and it was pretty scary. Not exactly Gottex material."

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Melissa hisses at him.

Faye says nothing and the silence is so unlike her it is disturbing. When Adam opens his mouth, clearly about to speak again, she stands up.

"Shut up," she says and her usual superior, slightly irritated tone is gone. Her voice is low and threatening, yet somehow vulnerable, like a trapped animal about to attack its captor in a desperate attempt at freedom.

Melissa grabs Adam's arm, clearly about to give him a piece of her mind, but he jerks away from her.

"You know what, screw you, people," he says, his voice still soaking with laughter. It sounds bizarre. "You want a ride?" he asks, already at the doorstep, and you realize he is talking to you. "I'm good, thanks," you mutter. He slides out the door without as much as another word.

Faye stares after him, her face a good few shades paler than usual; somehow it makes her look younger, nearly childlike. She clumsily picks up her jacket and when she speaks up, her voice is a throaty half-whisper. "We should go finish that report on blood cells." Melissa nods quickly. But they barely make two steps towards the door before Jake grabs Faye's arm. You suddenly wish you had left when you had your chance. You look at Melissa but her eyes are on Faye, worried as she watches her struggle against Jake's grasp.

"Jake," you caution quietly. His eyes flicker in your direction, though you can tell he is not really seeing you, and he lets go of Faye's arm. But there is no resignation in that gesture, nothing to suggest Faye is getting on with her blood cells report anytime soon. The sudden touch of Melissa's hand on yours feels almost liberating. "Come on," she whispers, "maybe we should let them talk."

And you don't question her decision as you follow her out of the room, grateful to be getting away from there, from the blend of pain and shame in Faye's eyes, from the anger and fear in Jake's. Still, you turn around at the doorstep, only to see that Faye's face has hardened, that her shoulders are squared, her posture defensive, as if prepared for a fight. "Go girl," you whisper, and another absurd giggle escapes your mouth. This time Melissa hears it but she merely gives you a weird look as the two of you walk out into the starting rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTE: I'm really sorry this took ages to post. I hope you enjoy and I'll be really happy if you let me know what you think.**

**Faye's POV.  
**

**I don't own The Secret Circle**.

* * *

_When I was little I always imagined storms personalized: their bodies translucent, ghostly, beautiful. They would reach out to me and call my name and it felt like heaven in their slippery wet embrace. Mom used to get so upset when I came home all soaked up and trembling but she never knew about these perfect pale beings that sprang out of my head, assuming their shape under the touch of moisture in the air, and kept me safe as I ran through the rain._

I stare at the dust-covered windows of the abandoned house (it has been kind of filthy around here since Diana took off), watching the rain grow heavier behind them. The voice of the thunder lulls my mind into a strange, delirious peace; I squeeze my eyes shut until my eyelids ache, then open them again, desperate for inspiration.

_We watched Sweeney Todd all day and got a little carried away_, my hazy mind offers.

_I_'_ve always had awful trouble shaving my legs properly._

_Adam is on Devil Spirit. I didn_'_t do a thing._

I grin at the last one, then take a deep breath and look up to meet Jake's eyes. I really have no idea what Melissa was thinking when she dragged Cassie out of that door, leaving us alone: that the two of us would actually _talk_ _about this_? Jake and I don't _do_ talking. We only do angry sex and sarcastic insults we don't really mean.

Not that I feel that horny right now.

His eyes are mocking when he speaks and I instantly feel solid ground under my feet: mocking's good. I can do mocking.

"Razors, Faye? Really? Seems like a hell of a way to deal with your drama."

The downplay stings a little but I try to ignore it. I also decide there is no need to dwell on details, such as I mostly used kitchen knife. "I didn't ask your opinion," I hiss instead. "And it's long over anyway, so _back off._"

I turn to the door then, half-expecting him to grab my arm again but he doesn't move a muscle; instead, the door slams shut before my eyes, shattering to pieces as it hits the doorframe.

"You had no reason to be messed up like that," he says as I turn back to stare at him, a little freaked out. I can barely hear his voice: it's low and harsh and cold in a way that makes me wish he would shout instead. The sweet delirious haze is gone from my mind, crumpled among the sheds of the door.

I honestly don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, it's just Jake being an ass – that's what he does when he feels anger or guilt or any other emotion he can't handle, which is pretty much all of them. I _know_ this, I always have, but it doesn't matter because when I stare at him now, I'm suddenly fifteen again and he's the gorgeous senior boy whose parents died before they could teach him that people have feelings.

"I had plenty reasons," I say and somehow the bitchy hiss I was going for comes out as awkward whisper. I wish I could look away from his face and hide myself behind a chair or something, peekaboo-style.

"Like what?" he scoffs. "Me dumping you? You could screw any guy you wanted and it's not like we ever did anything else back then. So why exactly did you decide to slice your skin when I was gone?"

Then the blood boils in my veins and rage takes over.

Maybe I just really didn't want him to know. It has felt so good to forget that broken kid I was back then, to bury her in the past with all her sleepless nights and blood-stained towels, the thrown-up dinners her mom never knew about. To cease to be that _damn clingy_ Faye I was, and perhaps deny she ever existed.

Now she's digged up again in all her pathetic, vulnerable glory, turning bitchy hisses into awkward whispers, and I feel like I can't bear the humiliation.

So yeah, I'm mad.

But I also can't help thinking - having heard the outraged disbelief in his voice - that he never really got what being with him meant to me. How fucking happy it made me when I woke up beside him - not even in his arms, we never slept like that, just _close_ – and for the first time in my life I was not cold. Cause I always used to be so damn cold when I was a kid. Not that he knew that.

Not that he knew much of anything, as it turns out.

So yeah, I'm mad. A lot.

So much that I honestly don't know what I´m saying anymore.

"Just so we're clear," I whisper, suddenly feeling a weird thrill flash through me. Can't help it, I'm a sucker for dramatic intros. "It's my body and if I ever feel the need to_ slice my skin_ again, then that's what I'll do, and you don't get to ask questions."

There, done.

Outside, the sky is all thundery, clearly rooting for a theatrical departure.

I turn on my heel and run out of the room before he has a chance to yell my name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks everyone for reading, reviewing and story alerts, it really means a lot!**

**Faye's POV.**

**I don't own The Secret Circle.**

* * *

When I get out of the house, the sky is dark, covered with steel-colored clouds, the shapes of trees dissolving in the shadows. It only takes seconds before my clothes and hair get soaked with the rain. I kick off my shoes and turn my face towards the sky, letting the drops hit my skin while I listen to the rumbling sky and feel the earth shake slightly under my feet.

"Come on," I whisper, "is that the best you can do?"

It crashes louder in response and a lightening crosses the sky, turning the dusk in a bright day for a second. I can see the branches of trees swaying in the wind and they seem to be luring me in. I run then, faster than I_'_d ever tell I could but my muscles don't scream in protest; it almost feels like I've left my body behind, like I_'_m a part of the rain, a spirit unburdened by a bodily presence, invisible, virginal and deadly. _He__'s never had me_, it chants in my head, _the blades have never had me, I am my own, and mine only._

Out there in the storm is the perfect freedom, а safe place to have memories flash before my eyes.

_First comes the sweet smell of a blackberry pie, the stairs in Jake's front yard where I've been freezing for hours, Cassie's grandma on the porch of the neighbouring house. "He hasn't come home for over two weeks," she says quietly. I play with my shoe laces, not saying anything back. "You should go home, Faye." It's a kind, well-meant suggestion – she's not kicking me out or anything. Part of me wishes she would. "I´m waiting for Nick," I mumble, still not looking at her. Her steady, slow steps echo on the stairs, then her hand squeezes my shoulder, warm and supportive. I know I haven't fooled her. "The sweet always helps," she smiles, handing me a small tray covered with a cloth. "Thanks,"I mutter, trying to hold my breath; the cheerful, homely smell is making me sick._

_My body, then, a little bony and ghostly pale in the feeble light of the street lamp that pours into the room. I can't help trembling a little as Jake pulls me into his arms, bending to kiss my neck, and I feel a funny weakness in my stomach at the throaty sound of his laughter. He flinches slightly when I press my freezing fingers against his back, then laughs again, running his hands down my waist and stopping them at my hips. He lifts me off the ground and I smile at the good timing; my thighs feel weak already, strangely shivery, as if they were turning into water._

_The party at the Harper's docks__.__ I've never seen Jake smoke before. H__is mouth tastes like ashes afterwards; I get through three cans of beer just to get rid of the taste. __ One of the girls comes to sit on his lap, giggling drunkedly, and kisses his mouth__; he laughs too and kisses her back. I__'m confused and angry, not quite knowing what to do. A boy around Jake's age, maybe older, puts his arm around my waist, mumbling some crap into my ear as I struggle to get free. Jake tells him to leave me alone._ "_Sure bro, give me a minute," he groans, sliding his hand under my shirt. _"_I mean it," Jake says, raising his voice. He pushes the girl away and stands up; the guy gives him a confused look, then lets me go. My heart's going crazy in my chest, my eyes tearing up stupidly. _"_Let's get out of here,"Jake mutters, pulling my hand. _

_Then the night that was so unlike others, so surreal that in time I__'__ve come to believe it maybe never happened. Frightened, __I__ call his name in the dark room, then again, louder, trying to break him out of the violent dream. The torn shaking stops and I slide a trembling arm around his waist, pressing my face to his back. I want to whisper _"_I am here_"_ – and be there with all I have, my skinny child-like arms ready to hold him, but I'm scared he'd pull away if I spoke, so my lips just brush his skin as I word the promise silently. I listen to his ragged breathing as it slows down little by little until we breathe simultaneously. When I wake up in the morning we are lying apart again; I don__'t know if he was even awake, if he remembers. I never ask._

_My mother´s face - questioning, worried and bless her, clueless. What happened to the sleepovers at Melissa's, why am I eating so poorly, it is unhealthy to be this pale. I stare at my feet while she's getting it all out, then mumble something about homework and literatlly run to my room. All the while the cuts on my thighs ache to be reopened, promising to let me bleed out all the pain, all my raging disappointment. I smile as I rest my head on my knees, wrapping my arms around them and the blood crawls down my legs, dripping on the bathroom floor. I smile because I know it is working at last: the tears could have never flowed fast enough. _

"FAYE!"

The voice yanks me out of the memory flow; I slow down unwillingly as I begin to feel my body again: the rain whipping my bared skin, the aching muscles of my thighs, my lungs expanding and contracting quickly and the insane pounding of my heart; the embarrassing wetness between my thighs so easily triggered by the vivid memories of me and Jake together, the long-gone scars l throbbing a little, a mental echo of the old pain.

I lean against a tree, panting heavily, and I can feel the life pulsate inside it; I feel the moisture rush through its veins likeI feel my own outraged blood, and when I step away and force the wood aflame, it's beautiful and deadly at the same time: because within the magnificent flashing light the tree is dying, and all the tiny, invisible creatures bound to its life are being burnt to death.

"Faye?"

The flames disappear instantly, leaving a creepy half-burnt corpse behind, and it pisses me off that the pretty light is gone like that. I turn away from Jake´s voice – from anything that as much as smells _him_, really – and I set another tree on fire, and then another, until I feel like those beacon-lightening guys in The Return of The King, and it makes me giggle crazily because how stupid is that.

"What are you doing? Faye, stop!"

He grabs my shoulders, forcing me to turn around to face him - and then his eyes widen in horror and he drops his hands, stumbling back a few steps.

"Jake...?"

He doesn´t even look up in response: his eyes are wandering all around my body, horror-struck, shocked like he´s never seen me before in his life. Instinctively, mine follow, making me gasp.

I guess the throbbing pain was not a mental echo after all: there are scars scattered all over the skin of my arms and legs, healed partly by time but still swollen and reddish, vivid enough to stand out against my pale skin.

Not any scars. _The scars_. I remember each and every one of them.

Jake takes a step toward me, finally looking up to meet my eyes. A lightening flashes across the sky and in the brightness I can see his lips tremble a bit as he speaks.

"You did all this?"

I give him a sweet, reassuring smile. "Every single cut," I whisper, then close my eyes.

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**NOTE: I'm sorry about all the nature imagery, it's just these guys are witches, and I always imagine witches as sort of_ bound_ with the nature, especially when they're all emotional and setting things on fire. Yeah, I'm weird like that. Sorry again :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm really sorry it took me so long to update. I know I'm terrible but I was stuck with the story and couldn't move on for a long time.**

**Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think about it.  
**

**I don't own The Secret Circle.**

* * *

One by one, the burning beacons go out and the woods slowly sinks back into darkness. Jake blurs away too until there's nothing left of him but a human-shaped shadow.

"Now Rohan will never come," I whisper.

"What?"

"Nothing." I blink my eyes, hoping they'll adjust to the darkness quicker. "Let's just get back to the house. I mean_, I'm_ going. You wait here for a lightening to hit you or something."

"How about we go home instead?" Jake suggests, not sounding too excited by the idea himself.

I'm not really sure what going home even means at this point but I smell something nasty on his mind: my mother, camomile tea, awkward confessions.

"No," I say resolutely. "What I need is some booze and I bet Blackwell has that big creepy cellar of his pretty well-stocked. "

"Jesus, Faye, you really wanna drink now?

I can't believe this boy. Could there be a _better_ time to drink?

"Look, I hate to break it to you, but I'm basically sliced up from head to toe and I have no idea how it happened or how I'm gonna to fix it, so yes, I want to drink like a pig until I puke my guts all over our stupid magic house."

For a while we say nothing and the rhytmic pacing of my bare feet begins to make my mind all peaceful and sleepy again: plop, plop, plop. This time I feel every twig and every little rock under my feet and I think of Andersen's little mermaid whose every step with human legs felt like she was walking on knives. I hated the tale when I was little, never quite understanding why the mermaid gave up her tail in the first place, and _definitely_ not understanding why she didn't cut the Prince's throat and go back to the ocean when she had her chance. Grandpa blabbered something about good deeds and eternal life but I wasn't fooled: I always knew I would have.

We reach the small clearing that surrounds the house and the moonlight turns the Jake-shadow back into a human-being. His clothes are completely soaked, his throat still intact, unscratched, screaming alive.

I always _thought _I would have. Too bad I wasn't much better than the damn little fish in the end.

I take a deep breath and there, woven into the smell of the woods and the rain, is the sweet scent of Chardonnay – I can literally taste it in on my tongue. Insinctively, I reach my hands towards the house, closing my eyes in concentration. I hear the window glass break and I open my eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of a wine bottle landing at my feet; somehow, it's still in one piece.

"Nice," Jake comments dryly.

"Shut up. You broke the door, didn't you?"

He chuckles. "Fair enough."

The rain is passing into a harmless drizzle and its touch feels good against my itchy skin. I grab the bottle and sink into the damp grass. The first few sips taste wonderful – life-saving, really.

Jake sits down next to me, putting enough space between us for me not to pull away.

"What exactly are you still doing here?" I ask, annoyed.

"Trying to make sure you'll make it through the night?"

"Well, you're kinda lowering my odds by sticking around."

"Look, about… what I said before,"he says, like I didn't just send him to hell. Though it _is_ kinda cute, the way he stumbles through the sentence. "I didn't mean that, I just - I never imagined you would…"

Of course he didn't.

I take another gulp. "Because we were just fuck buddies and I was supposed to know that?"

"Because I treated you like crap and you were supposed to be better off alone."

I laugh bitterly. "Well, I did get there… eventually."

I'm beginning to get that awesome floating feel, like my mind's on water and it doesn't really matter what I say or do next because it's all gonna be wiped away soon after. I attack the bottle for more, and there goes my last drop of Chardonnay. The glass makes a hilarious _thud _sound as it hits the ground. I turn to look at Jake for the first time since we came back.

"I'm not saying I loved you or anything, okay? I was a kid and… well, I still kinda believe love's better than what we had back then. But I was _happy_ when we were together. A lot, and… I guess I sort of learnt to trust the feelings to be there, and then one day they weren't, and it sucked… real bad."

We stare at each other then and it's getting a little bizarre as the seconds tick by. I'm trying to remember what it is I said just now but it's slipping away.

"I'm sorry I made you go through all that, " he says , and I nod awkwardly, looking away. I wish I still had the bottle with the paper label to play with while things are weird like that. I'm not used to things being weird with Jake.

"Faye?"

"Uhm?"

"You didn't really mean that, right? What you said… about hurting yourself again."

I sigh. That's the risk in making theatrical departures – some people just don't get the art.

"I guess I didn't. Why do you care, anyway?"

"I just want to know you're all right," he says simply . "I'm not saying I love you or anything, okay?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Well then, I am… all right. It is my own, psycho version of all right, but it does include some self-preservation. Honestly…" I glance helplessly at my mutilated tighs. "I don't think I have any skin left, anyway."

It's really not funny at all but we laugh anyway, and once we start, we don't seem to be able to stop. I think of the last time we were like this, ages ago, when Jake's aunt caught us half-naked in his room and yelled about how we've sinned our way to the deepest pits of hell.

"Seriously, though," I say when I calm down, my ribs hurting a bit. I'm actually starting to feel a bit panicky about it all, now that I'm done laughing and out of booze. "How did these bitches come back?" I dig my nail into the tiny reddish grin that spreads across my left knee - as if the damaged skin could explain itself somehow. Jake frowns and pulls my hand away, his eyes a little absent.

"Maybe they were never really gone," he says slowly. I wonder if it'd make more sense if I hadn't gone through a bottle of wine in five minutes.

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

"What kind of spell did you use exactly?"

"Why do you automatically assume I…"

"Faye?"

I sigh. "I don't know, some crap about… making the unwished disappear or something. Why?"

"I'm not sure about this but… healing's a pretty big deal, magic-wise. I mean, you guys were practicing for what, a few months when you cast the spell?

"I'm not following you."

He takes a deep breath. "I don't think you ever actually healed yourself. The spell you used – it sounds more like a concealing magic of some sort. Like cloaking, you know? Makes things immune to human senses but technically…"

"… they are still there,"I mutter. "And obviously, the spell I cast was a demo version."

He shakes his head. "You must've lifted it off accidentally. Maybe today, when you remembered it all…"

All that crap about magic being bound to our emotions. I hide my face in my hands for a while, trying very hard to think straight.

"So," I mumble into my palms, "if I cast the spell again, will it work?"

"I don't know," Jake says quietly. "Maybe."

I nod once and climb back to my feet, stumbling a little. Jake gives me a concerned look. "What are you doing?"

"I can't go home like this. Diana's book is still here, I have to try it."

There's no peace in the quiet _plop, plop, plop_ of my feet as I walk to the house now. My head is too clear with panic, uncomfortably sober; I wonder where all the wine has gone so quickly.

"The staircase, right?" Jake asks as we climb through the broken door and put the lights on.

I don't answer. In fact, I'm barely listening to him.

Instead, I stare at the old couch where Melissa's Book of Shadows is still lying, opened on the page with the horny healing spell and the picture of a couple about to make love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Big thanks to everybody for reading and reviewing!**

**This is the final part of the story, I hope you'll enjoy it. As always, I'll be thankful for reviews or any sort of feedback.**

**I don't own The Secret Circle.  
**

* * *

"Rosemary, right?" I whisper, and a bunch of tiny needle-like leaves slide out of my fingers into old rusty pot we digged up in the cellar.

"Now lemon balm." I can barely hear Jake's voice through the angry sound of the boiling water.

"And seer's sage." The potion swallows the last couple of leaves with a vicious hiss, then goes still.

A sweet herbal scent fills my lungs and I feel my eyelids getting heavy. The naked girl in the picture gives me a wry little smile, like she knows exactly what I am supposed to do while I have no clue. Once more, I try to focus on the ancient-looking inscription at her side in a foolish hope I'll find more in it than the first hundred times I read it.

_Inner peace and wholeness of spirit are of immense importance when performing the spell._

It's all quite clear, really, except neither Jake or I seem awfully whole to me, or in any sort of peace with ourselves. Mostly I actually wonder which one of us is a bigger mess.

His silhouette creeps out of the smoke cloud that somehow managed to fill the whole room, and I feel a wave of panick raise in my stomach. I feel a little cheated, the way you do when you've looked forward to a roller coaster ride forever, and then at the last moment your nerves fail you you and no matter what, you can't make yourself go.

"Why again have I agreed to do this?" I ask, my voice unnaturaly high.

Jake's eyebrows fly up in surprise. "You didn't _agree_ to do this, you _suggested _it, because you were horny and wanted to get rid of the scars for good."

"Nobody was horny, okay?"

He's looking at me like I've lost my mind. "You wanted to get rid of the scars, then."

"It's never gonna work."

"Why the sudden pesimism?"

"Because…" I take a deep breath, trying very hard not to think about how silly I'm about to sound. "Because I don't think we're anywhere near fucking _whole_, okay? I'm damn near suicidal, and… and no offence, but you still hate your guts over Nick and over that Calvin dude, and who knows what else, and we're both fucking orphans, or … half-orphans, whatever, and we don't even play the bongo or - or meditate, or camp in the wild, like these crazy Glaser hippies apparently did!"

I close the book shut with unnecessary force, and the silence that follows is so heavy it almost crashes my eardrums.

"Sounds like we have pretty lousy odds, then," Jake mumbles finally, burying his face into my hair, and I think I hear his voice tremble a bit. But it might just be a hallucination, same way as his bare arms look ghostly pale in the smoky air, and I know they're really not.

I stare at the weird smoke spirals that circle around the room while he's fighting the buttons on my shirt, and it's kind of cute how he can't seem to figure out they're just there to be pretty and there's a zipper hidden on the side. I smile when he finally gives up, muttering "come the hell off" under his breath, and I feel the fabric rip on my chest and slide down to the floor.

For a second, his hands are heaven on my freezing skin; then they go stiff and fall back limply.

"Dammit, Faye."

He stares at me in a blend of shock and half-hearted reproach, and I remember before I actually see it, the deep crimson cut stretching awkwardly across my left breast.

I feel a strange urge to explain it, to give voice to what I felt when I slid that soft, defenceless skin open: the sick pleasure of tainting a part of me that always drove him crazy, the thrill of cutting so close to my heart.

Only I can't bring myself to say any of it.

"I remember the night I cut it," I whisper instead.

"What?"

"You know Mr Gordon, the chemistry teacher?" I say to Jake's clavicle instead of his face. „My mom invited him over for dinner once to talk about why my grades were dropping or something... and I sat at the top of the stairs, listening to the crap she gave him about how I've lacked a father figure my whole life, and a proper family unit, and wasn't in certain ways a regular kid, and all the time I was cutting my flesh and thinking, _you bet I'm not_."

I glance up at Jake's face then and know immediately he heard it all, the long buried things I didn't really mean to say.

That maybe, deep down, there was more behind what I did than just the two of us.

That maybe the untold goodbye pushed me over an edge I've been balancing on for years.

Maybe. Maybe not.

He doesn't wipe off my tears or say "shhh" in a silly soothing voice the way people do when they can't stand looking at how screwed up you are. He merely traces the scar with his thumb, the sore skin stinging a little at the touch, my nipples hardening in response.

My hands wander off to unbuckle his belt and the little clinking sound makes my stomach tremble in expectation. _I am just like the Pavlov's dog, _I think_, drooling over the sound of the dinner bell_. I grin despite myself and I know without looking that Jake is smiling too, all dimply and cute beyond reason.

I wonder what it is that's so cheerful about this moment, beside the sickeningly good feel of his hands against my naked hips.

And it occurs to me that we're just a couple of messed up kids that happened to find safe haven in each other's arms.

As frail as it feels right now, I know it could be home once. It could be warmth and family.

A funny wail trembles off my lips as I feel him come inside me.

The picture seems very whole to me.

In the pale, surreal dream, my wounds reopen and bleed afresh as the spasms of ecstasy roll through me. I feel the skin tear apart and come back together, like a water surface broken into shivery circles, smaller and smaller still, until they die away and the water becomes its original unblemished self.


End file.
